Camp Camp Episode Something: Quarterstories
by marshmellowfluf
Summary: So what is the Quartermaster's deal, anyway? Max, Nikki, and Neil have some interesting ideas. Rated T for swearing. It's Camp Camp, after all.
1. Chapter 1

A helicopter hovered over the coast of Thailand. Inside, a mission briefing was wrapping up.

"So you have your orders. Godspeed, Quartermaster, and don't screw this up." Cameron Campbell, brown hair flowing in the wind from the open bay of the helicopter, finished up with a jab of his finger. "Don't forget, if anything goes wrong here, it's your family on the line."

The Quartermaster, clad in a wetsuit and backpack, grunted, then turned to face the twin horizon of deep blue ocean and bright sky. With a short hop, he dropped out of the chopper.

"That four-eyed bastard, show him to beat me at poker," Campbell said to no one in particular as the helicopter flew away.

Meanwhile, the Quartermaster was deploying his parachute. His descent slowed, but only moments later he unbuckled himself from the parachute, dropping the last twenty feet or so into the water with a splash.

Another hour or so of flailing in the water later, he finally arrived at the coast. From there, he unzipped the wetsuit, revealing… far too much.

.

The Quartermaster did up the last button on the tuxedo he'd had stored in the bag he brought. With that, he was ready to start the infiltration. He only needed to trek through the jungle here to make it to the site of his target's home.

He'd walked a good mile into the trees… when suddenly, from out of the bushes, a rhino came charging!

With no time to react, the Quartermaster swung his one good fist, socking the rhino right in the face! But the rhino wasn't going to give up that easily. It snarled and stamped the ground, determined to gouge the old man!

But old QM wasn't going to go down that easily. He reached into his bag, switching out his hook hand for something else. The rhino approached with death in its eyes, ready to charge again. For a moment time seemed to stand still-but then the Quartermaster whipped out his rhino-repellent-spray-hand! With one good spray, the rhino ran away!

"Hrm." The Quartermaster grunted, before swapping his hand out again, this time for his trusty grappling-hook-hand. With careful aim and a burst of kinetic energy, the hook flew through the air, digging itself into the roof of the mansion that was just barely visible through the foliage.

The rope retracted, pulling the dapper Quartermaster up onto the roof. His next target: the skylight.

Below, in a well-appointed office, was the target. A dragon sculpture, made of fine jade and with ruby eyes, sat on a pedestal in a glass case. Nearby but paying no attention to the dragon, a heavy-set bespectacled Thai man wearing an expensive-looking suit was talking heatedly on the phone.

The Quartermaster knew this would be the tricky part. Carefully he unlocked the skylight, lifting up a pane so that he could rappel down directly to the target. Quietly, quietly, sneaky, sneaky…

CRASH. He lost his grip on the rope and fell directly on top of the treasure, shattering the glass case. He sat there a little dazed for a moment.

Mere feet away from him, the Thai businessman continued yelling at the phone, somehow completely oblivious to the commotion behind him. The Quartermaster took the chance to retrieve the jade dragon, then grabbed the rope… which fell into the office with him. Somehow or other it had gotten unhooked.

"Hrm," he grunted.

Suddenly, alarms started going off! The businessman swiveled around as armed bodyguards rushed into the room, rifles all aimed at the Quartermaster. For a moment, it looked like the old man was doomed.

"Hrm," he grunted again. "Guess it's Rambo time." In a flash, he'd whipped out no fewer than six guns! His tuxedo bulged, then burst as his ripped pecs came to the fore. He let out a guttural warcry, gunning down one guard after another and soaking up bullets without a care-

"Okay this is getting way too unrealistic," Neil said, breaking the flow of the story.

"Hmmm… yeah, I guess you're right," said Nikki, who had been telling the story. "Quartermaster would never wear a tuxedo. He's more of a tailcoat kind of guy."

"Are there even rhinos in Thailand?" Max asked.

"Actually multiple species of rhino are native to Thailand," Neil answered.

"Huh. Points for accuracy there at least. Why the fuck did he need to be wearing a tuxedo though?"

"Because that's what international superspies wear!"

The three of them were buckled up in the back seat of the camp station wagon after an impromptu hospital trip. Outside the sun was starting to set.

"That story was almost as bad as the stomach pump," Neil said, clutching his recently pumped stomach. "Anyway I really doubt the Quartermaster is some kind of international superspy…"

"Well let's ask him then! Hey Quartermaster!" Nikki yelled at their chauffeur for the evening. "You ever steal any national secrets?"

"Break into any military compounds?" Neil tacked on.

"Assassinate any political figures?" Max rounded out the questioning.

The Quartermaster only grunted, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The trio wouldn't be getting any answers out of the famously taciturn Quartermaster.

"Well it's the only reasonable explanation," Nikki said, returning her attention to the other two kids.

"That wasn't reasonable at all," Neil said.

"Oh yeah? Well then what do you think the Quartermaster's deal is, huh?"

"Well…"


	2. Chapter 2

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashed overhead as the rain came down in sheets. In other words, it was another typical day on Spooky Island.

...Or was it? At the center of the island, beneath the summer home that sat there, deep below the surface… science was happening.

"Muahahahahaha!" The evil laughter of Cameron Campbell rang through the basement laboratory. "At last! My greatest creation is complete! They laughed at me… they said it couldn't be done! Well we'll see who's laughing now!"

Electricity surged, and smoke billowed from strange machinery. Out in the wilderness, a wolf howled. Generators hummed to life as he flipped the final switch. The din grew louder and the electricity brighter until…

DING

"Finally! It's done!" Campbell opened the microwave door. He pulled out the plate inside and held it over his head in triumph. "The perfect microwaved ham sandwich!"

He lowered the plate to get a better look at it, glee visible in his eyes. "Suck it, all you haters that said a toaster oven is the only way to prepare a hot ham and cheese… Hm?" A semi-mutated fly had discovered the sandwich, and now descended upon it. Campbell wasn't keen to share it, however. "Buzz off, you," he said, flicking it away.

The fly flew across the room, straight into a live circuit, blowing the power.

"Sunnuva-IGOR!" he yelled into the dark. "The power tripped again! Bring me a light!"

The secret door rotated, and through it came a hunched-over old man holding a lit lantern. "Yes, master," he said obediently.

"Shut up, Igor. We need to get the power back on. I can't enjoy my sandwich in this dark! And for god's sake man, I know the sandwich looks good, but stop drooling on my shoulder!"

"...Sir." Igor was still standing in front of the hidden door, a good ways away from Campbell.

"...Ah. It's one of the experiments behind me, isn't it?"

Igor shook his head.

"...It's two of them."

He nodded this time.

"Well, fuck."

What ensued was a dimly lit battle to the death between Campbell, the hook-nosed lizard beast, and the flannelmonster. Igor was hesitant to jump into the fray himself, but he was no slouch. Carefully, carefully, trying not to attract attention, he snuck over to the breaker box.

He flipped the breaker, flooding the laboratory in bright fluorescent light once more. The beasts suddenly found themselves blinded!

"Good job Igor! I might pay you this month!" Campbell praised his assistant, before giving the beasts a swift kick, pushing them away. Unfortunately, the hook-nosed lizard beast's keen sense of smell payed off, as it flicked its tongue out, grabbing the ham sandwich.

"Nooo!" Campbell yelled, grabbing at air. "My sandwich!"

The two creatures collided with Igor, and the three fell into a strange capsule, which immediately closed behind them.

"Oh no! Not the combinatorier!" But it was too late. The machine had already begun to hum, combinatoring the components into a unified whole.

DING

White smoke flooded the room as the door opened. Campbell's eyes widened in horror. "One quarter man… One quarter flannel… One quarter hook… and one quarter ham sandwich! He's-"

"THE QUARTERMASTER!"

"What the hell?" Max said. "Neil just because he smells like an old ham sandwich doesn't mean he actually is one."

"Well have you ever tasted him?" Nikki questioned. "It's definitely a possibility you know."

"Look you saw all that spooky lab equipment on Spooky Island, what else would Campbell have been using it for?"

"Eurgh, don't remind me about that." Max made a face. "I'm trying to repress that memory."

"Well if he's not an international super spy," said Nikki, "and he's not a ham sandwich, then what's your take, Max?"


	3. Chapter 3

A cracked, dusty road extended from horizon to horizon. The sun was high in the sky over the barren earth. Every now and then a car zoomed past, ignoring the old man at the side of the road.

He sat with one hook hand resting in the dirt, the other supporting a cardboard sign that read "WILL WORK 4 FOOD."

Another card zoomed past-but unlike the others, it slowed to a stop, then backed up. When it was directly in front of the man, the driver side window rolled down with an electric hum. Behind it was none other than the Cameron Campbell.

"Well, what have we here?" he asked. "A homeless vagabond, wandering the highway? Tell me my good sir, do you have any family?"

The old man grunted in the negative.

"Friends that might miss you?"

Another no.

"Anybody that might ask questions if you were to, I don't know, find yourself the victim of some mild and morally gray experimentation?"

"I do not," he said.

"Well, well, well," Campbell said, rubbing his hands together. "Why don't you come around to the passenger seat and I'll take you to my new summer camp. I think you'll be perfect for this job…"

The man climbed into the car and shut the door behind him.

"Wait, what's your blood type?"

"A."

"I think you'll be perfect for this job…"

"...What, that's it?" Neil asked.

"Not every origin story has to be some B-movie plot, Neil," Max snapped.

"But where was the buildup? The suspense? The CLIMAX?" Nikki demanded. "I am not rating that fresh."

"Well it's way more believable than your batshit theories," Max shot back. "Anyway who even cares? The Quartermaster is the Quartermaster. He's probably not some super spy or ham sandwich hybrid, just some weirdo that Campbell picked up because he has no standards. He hired David and Gwen, for fuck's sake."

"Mr. Quartermaster, are you a hobo?" Nikki called up front.

Just a grunt in reply. Nikki sighed. "I guess we'll never know."

"The man is an enigma," Neil agreed.

"Or he's just a creepy old guy," Max shrugged.


	4. Chapter 4

Campbell breathed deeply the smell of the forest. "Oh yeah," he said. "This'll be a great parking lot someday. But before that…!" He swung down his hammer, pounding a sign into this recently acquired plot of land: Future Site of Cameron Campbell's Camp Campbell, it read.

"Alright, now I just need to get some heavy equipment in here and my new tax shelter will be up and running in no time!" He contemplated his plans. "I wonder what the going rate is right now on immigrant labor."

"Well, I'll decide the details later," he decided. "First of all, I'd better have lunch!"

Rummaging around in his pack, he pulled out a sandwich bundled in foil. After unwrapping it, he went to take a bite… but then the smell hit him.

"Holy food poisoning," he said, holding the sandwich far away from himself. "How long has that been in there?"

Without a second though, he tossed it over his shoulder and into the woods. "Well," he said, "I suppose I could try foraging. Animals do it all the time, and they're basically idiots."

Something rustled in the bushes, alerting Campbell's finely tuned danger sense. He immediately whipped around, to be faced by… a strange, hook-handed old man.

"Sweet capitalist Jesus! Who the hell are you?"

The old man switched to his scroll-hand, unrolled it, and began to read. "So it is written, for your selfless deed in giving me an only mostly spoiled ham sandwich, I shall henceforth and without complaint serve your interests for all of eternity, or until the master is reunited."

"Well-l-l, that's certainly a proposition but-wait, does that mean I don't have to pay you?" Campbell was now looking interested.

"According to the ancient mystical scroll I am entitled to a one hour lunch break for every eight hour shift and three weeks of vacation time per year," the Quartermaster answered matter-of-factly.

"Damn unions," Campbell grumbled, shaking a fist. "Well I'll take it. Say, for your first job, how would you like to go to Thailand? And do you have a tuxedo…"

The Quartermaster adjusted the rearview mirror. The kids in the back were sound asleep. He was all alone with his memories now.


End file.
